With The Falling Of The Rain
by StarlightPhoenix
Summary: Kai is in his own little world of angst, with thoughts of his grandfather constant. But when he meets a old friend, he's brought into a somewhat pleasant reality. But when Kai's eyes open, he realises that others' lives are just as bad as his.


**With The Falling of the Rain**

I dragged my numb feet further, step by gentle, weary step, not quite sure of where I was headed. My black trainers scuffed the pavement and I tripped. My knees came into contact with the ground with great force, ripping my combat pants and grazing my knees. Or rather, opening old wounds. I was doing that much too often recently. Much too often.

I didn't try to get up. I didn't know if I ever could. It seemed to me to be the final straw. Instead, I knelt in the crowded street on my exposed knees, and in synchrony with the falling of the rain, wept with all my heart.

I wasn't crying in despair. I was weeping with anger. My soul wasn't emptying due to anguish. No, it was a mixture of these things, and also many more. Many more which I cannot name or even begin to describe, for I didn't know what they were exactly. They were complex emotions, hidden for so long deep in my spirit. That much is all I can tell you. And for that, I apologise.

I think... people were watching me. Examining me intently. Criticising me intensely. Their eyes scanning my being - the well-toned body; the slender legs; the thin hips; the muscular biceps; the dainty fingers; the angelic face; and its frame of blue hair. I was but a mere boy, only fourteen. I doubt they really were criticising me, but who had forced me into my broken predicament.

For that was the reality of it. That was exactly what I was. I was nothing more than a broken soul. A fallen angel. And it was all my grandfather's damn fault. He was the reason, the only reason, I was like this. He was behind my crying. He was the cause of my pain. He was why I was me. He broke me, and he twisted me, and he rearranged me so that I became what he wanted, as a mere puppet. But now... Now there are no strings on me.

Or so I thought, but there are. Many more than I could have imagined. Some which remained from the beginning. Some which formed over time once I broke away. Yes, there are plenty of things on me. And my grandfather. He is the puppet master.

But I wasn't his only doll. No. Indeed, he controlled plenty more. My friends. My enemies. Everyone. But they weren't as reluctant as I. They didn't know him like I did. They couldn't see what scum he was. He blinded them with his lies. He enticed them into his own little world of apparent perfection, when really it was nothing of the sort.

I resented him for that. It was one thing to turn me into something disgusting, and repulsive, and _dirty_, but to put other kids through that same punishment... That was beyond my forgiveness. But it was fine to do it to me. Why couldn't he just settle at that? Why couldn't he be content with the power and control he already had over _me_? Why must he have been so greedy? So power-hungry... It was fine to do it to me. I was the reason... behind who _he_ was. I was problematic, awkward, difficult. I had always been rebellious. I should've been punished, but not the others. Not my friends.

But even still, I _was _punished. I was disciplined _too much_. He grew system to the whole routine. He became fond of it. He... _enjoyed my suffering. _He _loved putting me through pain_. He _took me to the gates of hell himself_. But he stopped, just one footstep from the edge, for he knew that if he did, he could torture again... and again... Time and time again. And... look... what happened. Look... at me... now. LOOK AT ME NOW!

What had I become? Depressed. Angry. Imperfect. Contaminated. Poisoned. Broken. Destroyed. Defeated. Anxious. So many things I'd rather not be. So many things I hate myself for. Because it's my fault! Everything in this waste of a life is my fault! I can't fool myself any longer. I can't blame Voltaire anymore. Because it's me. My fault.

I punched the ground. Was I the one who was lying, and not my grandfather? Had I enticed myself into another dream? Was I beyond my own forgiveness?

"Do you see what you've made me?" I cried. "Is that the result you wished for so dearly? Are you happy? Because I'm not! Why did it have to be me? What was so different about me, about your own grandson? I wasn't strong enough! I never will be! Don't you see? Look at me now! All those years you spent trying to strengthen me, and look at me now! Gone. Shattered. Into a million tiny fragments of nothing. Voltaire, look! I'm sorry! I know this isn't what you wanted! I know I will never be what you wanted! I'll never be perfect, and perfection is something I've strived for so much. Why? Why does it all have to go to pot now?" I leant forward and slouched, my forehead resting on my arms, which were flat against the concrete. I continued my weeping.

Those phrases were only bitter thoughts, but they came out as frustrated words, as loud as thunder. People stared. Some chuntered an indistinct language. But I didn't care that I couldn't hear. What they thought didn't matter to me. My crying was washing away the world and soon everything would be gone. I could feel it. The tears would disappear, the people would vanish, the pain would dissipate. I would melt into the shadows of the darkness and never return. Maybe... it was for the best. Who would care? Who would even notice? I daren't even wonder, for I knew the answer. No one would. No one sane enough.

"Come," whispered a calm voice. "Let's get you inside."

I raised my head, but still I couldn't see anything. I was blinded by tears. I wiped them away and looked again. I saw something truly amazing, yet at the same time truly sickening. I saw what I had tried so desperately to be. I saw perfection. Perfection in everything about him, this young kid who'd come to help me, of all people.

I remained silent.

He nodded his head backwards slightly. "Come on. Don't be afraid. I'm here to help you."

My mouth hung agape slightly as I studied his perfect features. He had magnificent and fiery red hair, soft yet vibrant at the same time. His delicate lashes were black with eye liner, which had run slightly with the showers. His eyes were so cold and blue I could have drowned in them. They were also far too vulnerable to behold. His outstretched hand was pale and slender. He was so handsome.

"I..."

The rain only magnified what I described.

"Shush." He held his index finger to my lips, pressing only enough to purse them together. "Don't say a word. I think you've said enough already. It wouldn't do you any justice. In fact, I think it would make things a whole lot worse." How he said wasn't cold or distant, but caring and anxious for how I was. It was just a simple breath.

"But..."

"Come on. You must be cold from the rain. How long have you been out here? I can only wonder," he sighed. I noticed that he was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt as well. "I know, I'll take you to my place. I'll make you a nice cup of cocoa, let you have a good long bath, and then get you into some dry clothes. How does that sound?"

"That..."

But he didn't give enough response time. I guessed I didn't have a choice. He took my arm and pulled me on, gently shoving onlookers away, often saying something such as 'There's nothing to look at' or 'How would you like it if I got the world to gawp at you?'. I just allowed myself to be led away by this total stranger, but grateful of what he was doing.

We arrived at this guy's pad in about twenty minutes. It was on the edge of town, but not in the estate. It was a little bit larger than the average house, but not by much. Inside the decor were mainly warm colours, the only cool colours being in the toilets and bathroom.

He did exactly what he had said he would do, but not in the same order. First, he pointed me to the bathroom, saying he was sure there'd be some hot water, and if there wasn't then he'd 'freaking assassinate' his room mate. He told me also to use as much as the hot water as needed to warm my body's systems up to the correct temperature and allow them to work correctly again. So I did. I must say that it did do me some good, and I felt completely refreshed, both physically and emotionally, after my bath. He pointed me in the direction of his bedroom and told me to put on any clothes that I liked and fit. After that he sat me down, still warming me up with a towel and the coal fire burning, with a cup of hot chocolate. We didn't talk much, just watched some random programme on television. He was snuggled up to me, rubbing my upper arms frequently, again trying to warm me. It was really kind of him.

But what perplexed me more was the things happening inside of me. I had a sort of cramp in my abdomen, but it wasn't shifting. Also, it wasn't to do with any sort of illness. I didn't know what it is. I was also absolutely boiling, like I had a bad fever, but still felt the cold of outside. What was that feeling?

The next time I felt anything was when I woke up, staring at the time - seven fifteen: a good three hours later. I must've fallen asleep. I sat up and realised that Tala was missing. I had been laid on the sofa by myself.

I wasn't quite sure why I as searching for this lad, but I was. I sort of felt it as my duty. He had helped me, so I was in debt.

But he was nowhere in the house. I checked every room. Nothing. His housemate said he was sure he hadn't left, yet there wasn't a sight of him. So I left to investigate.

What I found was truly awesome. Not the "dude, that's like, totally awesome" way, but the "wow, what the hell?" way.

I found my stiff legs running for forward to a figure crouched on the floor. His neck was hunched into his shoulders, and he made short, sharp movements. He was crying. And it was, no doubt, Tala.

How... did I know... his name?

That didn't matter. Not right now.

"What's wrong? Hey!"

His head lifted and I could see he had been crying for some time. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks tear-stained. His arms were crossed tight across his body.

"Is there something wrong? What's happened?" I spluttered, totally forgetting, if not ignoring, my own angst. "Tell me."

He didn't speak a word. Instead, more tears flowed like a gentle stream and his hands were brought to his face. That's when I saw the marks. Those vivid bruises and scratches.

"What? I don't understand."

I tried to put my arms around him.

He flinched and leapt up. "No! Please! Don't! Don't make me do it! Not again!"

I too rose. "Do what?"

"Voltaire, stop this! I'm just a boy!"

My body jolted. "Voltaire?" I spat, the anger rising in my voice. "What has he done?"

"I'm just a boy," he repeated over and over and over. "I'm just a boy."

"What has Voltaire done!" I shouted, grabbing Tala's forearms. He winced again, immediately trying to cover himself. Then I noticed it.

His hair was disheveled. His clothes out of place. He was red in the cheeks. And the bruises finished it off.

"He hasn't... He hasn't... No, he couldn't... Wouldn't... He _has_!" I growled. I couldn't believe it. I know he was terrible, but I never expected him to do _that_. "Tala, I can't do anything until I know that he did do what I think he did."

"I can't!" Tala whimpered.

"You have to! Tala, you want to get him back for this, don't you?" I persisted. "Tala, look, if we don't report him for whatever it is - rape, sexual harassment - then he's just going to do it to other kids. Then they're going to feel like you do. He's a sick, twisted, perverted old man and he needs to be banged up for every offence he does. What do you say?"

"No..."

"Tala, you can't just let this go, dammit! Tell me, even if you don't want me to go to the cops. I won't if you don't want to."

Tala took a breath. "... He made me... do things... and he did things to me..."

"Why, though?" I asked.

"Because I'm in debt to him. I stole some money a couple of years back and there was no way I could repay it! Then... he thought of that... and I had to agree, I HAD to. He threatened to turn me into the police."

"That was how long ago?"

"Two years."

"And you stole how much?"

"About seventy-five quid."

My voice rose even though I tried to remain calm. "And he's still making you do that! That's it! That's enough! I'm not having it any more! He can make my life a living hell but he isn't making anybody else's! Tala, we've got to go to the police!"

"But... I can't... He told me that if I reported him, then he'd report my theft. I can't have that, Kai; it'd ruin my chance for my career!" Tala pleaded.

I was stuck in a huge dilemma. What were we to do? If I reported Voltaire against Tala's will, then I'd be as bad as my grandfather. If we didn't, then it was morally wrong. I'd always thought of myself as a utilitarian, but now I was doubting that. I wanted to help Tala so desperately, but if I did, then so many others would suffer because of Voltaire.

Without realising it, I pulled Tala into my arms, whispering gently into his ear, telling him it was going to be all right. Then something extraordinary happened. Something I can't really explain.

There was a pounding in my head, like a headache, only it didn't hurt. It was just there. I no longer had the sense of holding Tala, even though I knew I was. My environment had changed to something mystical: huge shards of black ice surrounded me. I was stood alone in darkness.

It was a long time before all of this sunk in, and I realised what exactly was going on. That thumping in my head was our heartbeats. Tala's and my own, beating together in unison, _at exactly the same time_, neither even a nano-second out of time. The black shards, the darkness... I was enveloped in Tala's mind. I was stood, staring at his inside. His state of feeling.

"Tala..."

I looked around. The ice seemed to be showing me memories of his past. Everything astounded me. He was brought up to become perfection, as was I. It was... weird how similar we both really were.

Then suddenly I was dragged out of his mind with the sensation, the dreadful sensation, of falling. And before I knew, I landed back in my own physical body, still cradling Tala. He was still in my arms, but slightly farther back. And from the look on his face, he'd had the same experience as well.

We both tried to speak, though it was a while before we could.

"What just happened?" I gasped.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Tala breathed.

"I think..."

"I was in you. I saw everything. Your grandfather... Your loneliness..."

"Same here," I replied. "God, I was in your mind and you were in mine. How does that work?"

Tala shrugged.

"It was..."

"Unpleasant," Tala interrupted. "I felt like I was going to be sick coming back to reality."

"That'll be the air sickness." I paused. "How... did I know that?"

"God knows."

I ran my fingers through my hair. This was too disturbing.

"You think... we're soul mates or something?" Tala pondered.

"Eh? You what?"

"You know, like we were meant to meet again or something. Like it was our destiny to fall in..." He trailed off.

"Fall in what?" I urged.

"It doesn't matter." He looked at me. "Honestly, it doesn't!"

"What were you going to say, Tala?" I persisted.

He bowed his head. "Fall in love."

I stepped back slightly.

"Huh?"

"I've loved you ever since I met you, Kai, all those years ago in the Abbey."

The Abbey! That was where I'd seen Tala before. That was how I knew his name.

"You were just always so cool. You never let anything get to you. And you'd stick up for anyone and everyone. You'd even take a few beatings, but never, ever throw a punch back. All for your friends," Tala clarified. "And what about me? I was just a little runt, unable to do anything right."

"There was one thing you did do right," I said softly. "You stopped me from breaking down completely. Don't you remember?"

"No."

"My twelfth birthday. Nobody knew it was except you. I don't know how you did, but you found out. You came to my room, gift held tightly in your hands, and you wished me a happy birthday. Only, you got to the end of 'happy' before stopping. I was two seconds away from slashing my wrists, remember? You begged me not to. You tried to make me see what was so great about life: the people, the wildlife and plants, the seasons, the sunshine, the rain. And I came round. I didn't do it. But for the remainder of the night, we just sat and I cried my eyes out. You do remember, don't you?"

Tala smiled. "Yeah. I remember it vividly. It was longest time I'd ever spent with you."

"Tala." He looked up. "I love you too."

I leant forward and kissed him, pressing my lips gently against his. At first he was shocked, but almost instantly he responded.

And that was where we stayed, for a very long time, just holding, comforting each other, caressing each other's angst. We stood, bonded by our lips, our hearts beating in unison, in time with the pattering of the falling rain. We stood, and now I realised: this was perfection. Voltaire had succeeded in his task. He had brought me to perfection, the one thing I'd strived for so desperately for so long. But this was it. Perfection wasn't being the best at everything. Perfection wasn't being the fittest, or the strongest, or the coolest, but being happy with what you had. And I was overly content with what I had, because I had Tala. Because I had Perfection.

And the falling of the rain, which magnified this fact ten times more...


End file.
